


Matters of Attraction

by yuuago



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Casual Sex, Hetalia Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2019-06-27 15:06:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15687876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuuago/pseuds/yuuago
Summary: It's just a matter of being attracted to someone - and knowing that they're thinking the same thing. Negotiating toward a night of sex without attachment.





	Matters of Attraction

**Author's Note:**

> Upload of an old work from the Kink Meme.  
> Prompt was as follows: _Sex between Germany and nation of your choice, no strings attached. Bonus for rarepair_[*](http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/21753.html?thread=94909689#t94909689)

Germany struggled to maintain his composure as he looked across the cafe table. It was utterly impossible that he had heard Norway correctly.

"I'm very sorry," he said finally. "Would you repeat that, please?"

Norway tilted his head a little, looking surprised that Germany hadn't been listening attentively, and said simply, "I was wonderin' if you'd like to spend the night with me." He said it as if he was suggesting nothing but that they meet up in this cafe again, at the same time, on a different day. "Seein's business won't be wrapped up until tomorrow, 'n you said you ain't leaving until evening, wasn't it." He spoke in low and even tones, just loud enough to be clearly heard over the rattle of the busy cafe, and when he lifted his eyes to look at Germany directly, there was absolutely no question as to what he meant by it.

As he quelled the urge to give him a firm refusal, Germany tried to determine where the question had come from. It was undeniable that he had spent much of the day looking at him - and not for the first time, either. One could say what one liked about Norway's cold demeanour, but his face was a mixture of angles that was very pleasing to the sight, and his eyes were such an unusually dark shade of blue that it was impossible not to want to look at them - if one was not on the receiving end of one of his irritated glares, that is. As for the rest of him, he carried himself well, and with confidence.

He must have seen me looking at him, Germany thought, and received the wrong impression. "I-"

Norway held up one finger to silence him. "Hold it," he said, pulling a pen from the pocket of his overcoat. He quickly scribbled an address on a paper napkin, then slid it over to him. "No need for decidin' just yet. Think on it."

Germany shook his head. "Please don't misunderstand me." He groped for the right words. It was impossible to say 'I am not attracted to you'; it would be an utter lie, and to judge by the way Norway looked at him from across the table, it could very well be that he knew it.

"Think on it," Norway repeated, as he smartly clicked the pen shut and slipped it back in his pocket. "If the answer's yes, be there at eight this evening. If it ain't, then I'll see you tomorrow morning. How's that."

He's leaving you ample way out, Germany told himself. "That sounds fine," he said, nodding for emphasis, staring at the napkin in disbelief.

"Good. Now, I'd best be goin'. Got things what need takin' care of, understand." Norway rose and shrugged on his overcoat. From the look of him, one would think they had been talking about the weather. He moved to turn, but cast one last glance at Germany. Perhaps it was meant to be reassuring, but his expression was as neutral as ever. "Have it good, then."

"I will." Germany watched him leave, then looked down at the napkin. In the background, the bell above the door jingled as Norway slipped out of the cafe. The napkin rested where he left it, with the address scrawled over it in blue pen. A blatant invitation, and one Germany would never have expected him to make. Norway's words echoed in his head. "Think on it," he had said.

He carefully folded it and slipped it into his pocket.

* * *

The chill of Oslo's winter night bit at him as he stood looking up at the apartment building. He held the napkin up and scrutinized it in the streetlamp's light. Yes, that was the correct address.

Germany pursed his lips and checked his watch. It was nearly eight o'clock. When he looked once again at the apartment building, he swept his eyes over the windows, trying to pick out which one might belong to Norway.

He hadn't come because he wanted to accept Norway's invitation, Germany reminded himself. He had only come to set matters on the correct track and ensure that everything was clear. The purpose of the visit was expressly to make sure that Norway understand that the looks he had given him were not anything that called for action. _That_ was true enough; he hadn't meant it to lead to anything at all.

You are only here to talk to him, he told himself again. That he had been thinking about the invitation all day was completely irrelevant. The fact that he had departed from the cafe shortly after Norway had left him only to soon return in order to pour over all the information he had on-hand about this quiet nation was also irrelevant. The book and notes that he always packed for these trips, usually so useful when dealing with Norway on matters of business and politics, had given him no solution to any of his questions. Perhaps - Germany would only admit it to himself - perhaps he was curious as to what might happen if he did accept, because every attempt to actually find an answer left him with nothing. He couldn't at all imagine what a night with Norway might be like - to say nothing of accepting his offer.

Movement in one of the lighted windows caught Germany's eye and he swept his gaze to it. Someone reached to close the curtain, then stopped and looked out. Norway. At first Germany couldn't be sure that he had been seen - even with the streetlamp illuminating him, perhaps Norway hadn't actually caught sight of him.

His wish was not fulfilled. Norway waved once, then gestured for him to cross the street. From where he stood, Germany couldn't be sure of his expression. No doubt it would be as blank as it always was. Regardless, there was no easy way to get out of the situation now that he had been spotted.

You came to speak to him, and nothing else, he reminded himself. Then, taking a deep breath, he crossed the street to the apartment building.

* * *

If Norway was surprised to see him, he did not show it. "Good t'see you," he said as he held out his hand for Germany's overcoat. "Would y'like some coffee?"

"Yes. Thank you." Though certainly Germany did not plan to be there long enough for it to matter, a cup of coffee would not be out of place.

It was strange to see Norway in that moment. He had stripped himself bare of the rigid, professional clothing he had worn for their meeting earlier that day, exchanging blazer and tie for a knit sweater and jeans and slippers. When he moved, he moved with ease, and even when he gestured for Germany to come with him into the kitchen, he did it with an expression much softer than what Germany was accustomed to from him. As he followed him through the small, simply-furnished apartment, Germany realized that he had never seen this quiet northern nation so dressed-down before. It was a look that made himself, still in his business clothing, look rigid and overdressed in comparison.

As if reading his mind, Norway glanced at him and raised an eyebrow, then turned back to the matter of coffee. "I didn't think you'd come," he said as he retrieved a blue mug from the cupboard. "Have a sit."

"I didn't come because of your invitation," Germany protested even as he sank down into the kitchen chair. "I came to have a talk with you."

"Didn't expect you to come at all," Norway said firmly, dismissing the matter. "How d'you take it."

"Black. Thank you."

There was a noncommittal sound from Norway, a 'don't mention it' sort of noise, and in a moment he joined him, setting the mug in front of Germany and sinking down across from him with one of his own. The two of them were much as they had been that afternoon, but this time, the atmosphere was quiet except for the ticking of the clock above the kitchen door. Quiet and - Germany was reluctant to admit - intimate.

For a while they drank their coffee in silence. Norway didn't seem to be bothered at the insistence that Germany was only there to have a talk with him, though it was impossible to tell if he actually believed it. As Germany looked at him, he tried to determine whether or not he had meant the invitation honestly. While Norway might have noticed his attraction - after the conversation they had earlier that day, he had to admit that it was possible - he did not seem like the sort to invite someone over to his apartment to have s- that is, to engage in the more private kind of international relations. 

And even if he is, Germany added to himself, why would he invite you? No, it was out of the question.

Norway's voice broke the silence. He spoke softly as he stirred his coffee to cool it, not bothering to lift his eyes. "So. Didn't come over here for a bit've fun, you said."

The sound the mug made when Germany set it down on the table was louder than he meant it to be, ringing in the stillness of the quiet kitchen. "It was absolutely nothing of the sort! I already told you, I only wanted to -"

"If y'have summat to say, then say it. I can hear you just fine." The _clink_ sounding from the spoon as Norway neatly set it on the saucer emphasized his words, as if that was the end of it. "But if you're askin' me, I can't see why you'd come all this way rather'n phone me instead. If you just wanted a word, that is." He looked up at him and arched an eyebrow. "Matter've fact, I'd call it downright inefficient."

Germany could feel himself blushing, and the calm, collected way that Norway looked at him only made matters worse. It was as if Norway knew that he had spent all day wondering what it might be like to sleep with him, debating with himself on the subject of what might happen if he actually did accept that unexpectedly forward invitation and scrutinizing every note he had on him in a desperate attempt to determine whether Norway had been genuine in his intent. "I felt that this matter would be better dealt with in person," he said.

"That so."

"Are you accusing me of lying?"

"No." 

Norway took a long sip of coffee, holding up one finger to indicate that he was not finished speaking. As he did this, Germany reluctantly held back his protest. The light way Norway had said it - 'No' - and the cold air to his words were frustrating enough, because _that_ was so obviously a lie.

Yet as he watched him, the unease brewing in him stepped to the back of his mind. There was something calming and pleasing about the sight of him. Once again Germany found himself tracing Norway's face with his eyes, taking in the line of his jaw and the slope of his nose, all the edges finely-wrought but strong. It was the kind of face that someone with a more artistic hand than himself would itch to paint. A strand of hair slipped out from the ever-present hairclip and fell against his cheek and Germany's fingers itched to reach out and touch it and put it back into place for him. Even if Germany would not admit to it aloud, he knew that this compulsion was not just out of a desire to have everything in good order and in its proper place. He thought of slipping those strands through his fingers and wondered if Norway's hair was as soft as it looked.

When Norway finally lifted his eyes to him again, they stared at each other for a moment before he continued. "It ain't me who I think you're lyin' to," Norway said as he set the mug down. "It's your own self."

The words slipped out without Germany even needing to think about them. "I am not!" He could feel himself blushing - again - as he realized he had raised his voice. "I assure you," he added, "I'm being completely honest with myself." 

He had barely spoken before Norway shook his head. "Why did you come here, then. Let's hear it. The real reason."

To have a talk, Germany thought, for a second hoping that he could simply say it and let the matter end there. But by the way Norway was looking at him, with his lips drawn into a thin line and any warmth that had been on his face gone from his expression, it didn't look as if that answer would be acceptable. A thought from earlier in the evening surfaced in his mind and lingered there. A question. He had dismissed it, but at that moment it was more relevant than any excuse that he could come up with for his visit.

"Why did you invite me?" Germany pressed on as Norway looked at him as if baffled by the question "Forgive me for asking, but even with our relations currently being what they are, you have every reason to not want to engage personally with me."

"Stop."

Germany stopped. The expression on Norway's face was the coldest Germany had seen on him in years. He parted his lips to apologize, then thought better of it and shut them.

They watched each other for a long moment. Norway was the first to break eye contact. He sighed and looked up at the clock, as if he was only checking what the time was. Lifted his hands and brushed the stray strand of hair out of his face, tucking it carefully behind his ear. His lips were still drawn, the lines on his face sharp and unwelcoming. The warmth from before, mingling with that orderly collection of edges and angles, had been a far better look for him. "This isn't about that," he said finally, speaking quietly but with impeccable clarity. He was curbing his speech for Germany's benefit. "It isn't about any of it."

Germany bit at his lower lip. "I'm sorry for bringing it up." The quiet sounds of the kitchen pressed in on him. The ticking clock. He found himself looking toward the doorway and wondered if it would be better for the both of them if he excused himself and left and never brought up the subject again.

"No." Norway followed Germany's gaze, then shook his head. Stay, the gesture seemed to say. "Guess it makes sense to think about it. But this isn't about that." He turned his eyes to him again, and though the coldness was still there, in the tightness of his lips, in the edges of his face, it had eased a bit. "It's about now, 's what. That's all. 'S about me bein' attracted to you and knowing well enough to tell when someone's attracted to me. D'you understand?"

"I see." So Norway _had_ noticed, Germany thought with horror as he took up his mug and drank as if needing a moment to turn over the words. The looking, the watching - all of it. Norway had known about it all along. And the rest was no less surprising. 'It's about me being attracted to you'. Norway hadn't shown any sign of it; it hardly seemed likely. Then again, Germany reminded himself, Norway wasn't the kind of nation to show much of an expression at all. He quickly recalled the more recent times when thy two of them had occasion to meet. More than once, he had noticed Norway staring at him, but Germany had simply assumed that Norway was merely glaring at him, expressing without uttering a single word that he was less than pleased about having to be in his presence. In light of Norway's usual curt words and distant demeanour, it had seemed to make perfect sense, just as it had on every other occasion they had happened to meet. It must have been something else, he decided, glancing toward him again. If he was telling the truth, it was something else. 

Norway nodded to himself, looking satisfied that his point had been made, and looked away, drinking his coffee as if everything had already been said, and there was nothing more to discuss. The warmth had returned to his face, softening his eyes, and it seemed there was no longer any need at all for the previous coldness now that they had reached an understanding. Perhaps there wasn't.

Germany thought of speaking, but found himself unable to determine the correct thing to say. As he thought and re-phrased, his efforts soon became unneeded. After a moment, Norway set down the mug, nodded to himself, then looked to him as if having made a decision. "I-"

The cheerful bouncing notes of a cell ringtone flooded the stillness. Norway frowned and slid his phone out of his pocket, scrutinized the screen, then gave Germany an apologetic look. "I have to take this," he said. "Hang on for a blink, will you?"

Germany nodded, because if nothing else, it would give him a moment to think, and no sooner had he done so than Norway slipped out of his seat and padded in slippered feet over to the dimly-lit living room. Though he spoke quietly, Germany heard him mutter something like, "Th' hell are you callin' me for, 's what I want to know."

It must be Denmark, Germany thought, having certainly questioned the same of him on more than one occasion. Though he did his best not to listen, he could still hear Norway's voice floating over to him, soft and low. Germany looked toward him and watched him a for moment from where he sat. Norway stood with his back to him, his head ducked a bit as if trying to hush the conversation. 

"No, already told you. I have things what need doin'-"

As quietly as he could, Germany stood and went to the sink to drain the rest of his coffee. He considered their conversation and what Norway had said. 'It's about me bein' attracted to you and knowing when someone's attracted to me.' His hand was unsteady as he set the mug in the sink. Perhaps he really had been lying to himself, Germany thought with a blush. It wasn't an intent to explain himself that had brought him to that apartment so much as it was a desire for an answer. After all, hadn't he spent much of the afternoon thinking over Norway's offer and wondering what it might be like to accept it?

In the next room the sound of Norway talking finished. There was a faint click as he flipped his phone shut. Germany stepped away from the kitchen counter and made his way into the dark living room. At the spot where the two rooms connected he stopped, standing in the doorframe, unsure of how to proceed.

Norway stared out the window with his arms wrapped around himself, looking for all the world as if he wasn't aware that there was another person in the room. The pale light from outside spilled into the room and played on his face and caught in his hair, making it as light as sun-bleached wheat. His dark eyes were without coldness, the fine edges of his face softened by the light and shadow. He parted his lips as if intending to say something, then stopped, seeming to reconsider. Finally, after thinking it over, he said quietly, "If y'have mind to, you can head right out that door, 'n I won't talk to you about this again."

"I see." It took Germany a moment to process what he had said, and a moment more to consider it. Then, taking in a breath and squaring his shoulders, he asked, "And if I would prefer to stay?"

At that, Norway turned his head and stared at him. His expression was difficult to read as ever, but there was something akin to surprise in the slight lifting of his brows, if Norway was capable of looking surprised at all. "Then I'd say that's fine by me."

His mouth went dry. You don't usually do this, Germany told himself. Then he pushed the voice aside. Why not? "Then I would like to stay the night with you." He could feel his face heating as he spoke and was sure that he was blushing. There was a stiffness in his voice, an excess of formality, as if he were speaking to Norway at a meeting again rather than standing in his simply-furnished living room and agreeing to an invitation that neither of them ever thought he would accept.

"Come here." 

Norway beckoned him over with a light flick of the fingers, and Germany went to him, feeling almost as if by doing that, Norway was pulling him toward him. He stopped when he was close to him, unsure what to do. "I-"

What words he was going to speak ceased as Norway took one step, pressed close to him, and rested his head on his shoulder. Germany drew in a sharp breath at the gesture. Norway was close; closer than the two of them had ever been. "Don't. You ain't here on business," he heard Norway mutter, his lips grazing at him through the light fabric of his shirt.

At a loss for what to say, Germany simply nodded, then after a moment of hesitation rested his hands on Norway's waist. That seemed to encourage Norway, as he pressed even closer and slid his hands up to rest on his shoulders. They were impossibly close. He could feel Norway's breath against his neck as he nosed at his throat, the warmth of his body as he nestled against him, the texture of the soft wool sweater under his fingertips as he tightened his hold on him. Germany was too stiff, he was sure of it. Trying to decide how to proceed, his mind raced, analyzing every option, doing his best to pay no mind to his own embarrassment. It wasn't that he didn't know what to do; after all, he had imagined being this close to him more than once - to say nothing of what he had been thinking over earlier that day after Norway gave him that invitation. It was simply a matter of not knowing how Norway would react. He invited _you_ , Germany reminded himself. It isn't likely that he would refuse a formal gesture.

His train of thought was interrupted when Norway drew away enough to look up at him and lightly touched his cheek. "You're thinkin' too hard about this," he muttered.

"It isn't intentional," Germany replied. He considered apologizing, but didn't.

"Think on summat else, then." It was rather more of an order than a suggestion. Germany parted his lips and struggled to think of the right response. Norway looked up at him expectantly, which did not help matters. But even as he considered it, Norway seemed to decide to solve the problem for him. Without another word, he tilted his head and brushed his mouth against Germany's lips. 'Think on this' the gesture seemed to say, but lightly enough not to be too insistent.

The offer of direction was more welcome than agonizing over details. Germany took the hint and kissed him and as Norway wrapped his arms around his shoulders he decided not to deliberate about it any further.

At least, not yet.

* * *

For a while they stayed that way, pressed together in the dark living room, but it wasn't long before Norway drew back and looked up at him. "Reckon if we don't head for bed now, we won't get there at all," he muttered, prodding Germany in the chest, giving him an expectant look.

The statement sent blush creeping over Germany's cheeks and he couldn't help but wonder if it was meant to be an offhand comment, or if it was a suggestion. Try as he might, he couldn't stop his mind from going directly there: having him right there. On the living room floor or pressed against the wall or bent over the desk in the corner of the room. He swallowed harshly and tightened his grip on Norway's waist, sinking his fingers into the weave of his sweater, his mind racing as he tried to decide what to do. Was that how Norway preferred it?! Germany could hardly imagine him liking it. "I... yes. You're right," he said finally, deciding to let him lead.

No sooner had he said it than Norway slipped out of his arms, stepping back from him. There was a hint in his eyes that suggested he knew what Germany had been thinking, and Germany hoped he was only imagining it. "Then we should get to it, wouldn't y'think." Without waiting for him to respond - as if knowing that Germany was not entirely capable of responding - he took one of his hands and slowly, quietly led him to the bedroom door, pausing only for a moment to turn off the kitchen lights. He drew him inside and pressed the door shut.

* * *

The room was dark and they made no move to ease the darkness and no sooner had they stepped into the bedroom than Norway pressed close to him again, giving Germany no time to even think before he kissed him. He drew in a quick breath and wrapped his arms around Norway, as much to steady himself as to simply hold him, as much to give his arms something to do while he quickly tried to think of how to proceed as it was to hold him close.

Insistent though Norway was at first, he soon curbed his enthusiasm, much to Germany's relief: resting against him, his hands lightly cupping his face, Norway kissed him slowly, as if he was fully intent on taking his time with the entire matter now that they had finally come to an agreement about it. His touch was as gentle as it was firm, slightly-roughened fingertips grazing his cheeks in a light, almost curious way. As Germany tried to relax into the kiss, he made a mental note: whatever he had expected about Norway, it hadn't been anything like what he was now experiencing.

You hardly know anything about him, Germany thought, repressing a shiver as Norway dropped his hands to trail his fingertips along his shoulders. What little Germany had known about him before was now of hardly any use; Norway was much different in the bedroom than he was in meetings, and no manual could prepare for this. Faced with a new impression, he was at a loss for what to -

"You're thinkin' again." Norway broke the kiss and muttered it against his lips, sounding as if he wasn't sure whether to be amused or concerned.

"Would you prefer it if I didn't?" Germany tilted his head and pressed his face to Norway's hair, hoping the attempt at a quip would buy him a moment more to decide how to proceed.

"Ain't what I meant. I do appreciate them what thinks on things." Norway's voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper, almost as if he wanted Germany to stay as close as possible just so he could hear him. "But you're stiff. Thinkin' on it. I can feel it." He trailed his fingers over Germany's shoulders again as if to prove his point.

Germany paused, rolling Norway's words over in his head, mulling over them. If he couldn't use his previous experience to judge how to proceed, then the only way to do it was with caution. He listened to Norway's breathing and concentrated on the lightness of his touch. Slow, loose. After hesitating a second, he dared to draw Norway closer. The gesture was accepted well enough; Norway was pliant to it, sighing as Germany slid his hands along his sides. Still, Germany knew that he was stalling - and from how quiet Norway had become, as if knowing he needed a moment to think, it seemed that he knew it, too.

"How would you like me to be?" Germany finally asked, risking a cautious whisper.

"However you feel like bein'. But it'd be nice if you'd relax a little. Are you nervous?" 

Norway's voice was soft by his ear, his breath warm and fluttering over it, and Germany couldn't be sure if it was on purpose or not. It sent a shiver through him - or maybe it was his words that did it. The question of it. Nervousness. He could feel himself blushing as he parted his lips to speak, then hesitated, running through the possibilities in his head. Though he wanted to protest, Norway had been seeing right through him since before he even arrived. It would do no good to lie to him. He'd catch it. "Forgive me for saying so, but yes." It felt like too much to even say it.

For a moment, Norway didn't say anything. He stayed close, resting against him, breathing easily, his fingertips making slow circles on Germany's shoulders as if trying to ease that nervousness without even speaking; as if the tension was a knot that he could work out with a bit of effort. Germany, for his part, retained his silence, though he turned over what he had said, wondering if he should have dared to brush it off.

Finally, Norway drew back and looked up at him, and as Germany straightened he slid his hands up to cup his face again. "Here's how I see it," Norway said quietly. "Could go about this two ways. If you'd like it better, we can forget about this." Germany parted his lips to refuse, but Norway was quick to silence him, pressing his fingertips to his mouth. "Hold on. I ain't finished yet. We can forget about this tonight, 'n try some other time. That meeting we have comin' up two months from now. I'll be in Hamburg, remember."

Germany nodded. Of course he remembered. It had been arranged as a follow-up to the trade talk they had engaged in earlier that day - only hours ago, really. It seemed strange to think about it. But to leave it until then - nervous or not, it would mean waiting far too long for his liking. Still, he considered it, slowly sliding his palms along Norway's sides, wishing he could get a better impression of the shape of him through the thick knitted sweater. "What is the other option?"

Norway's dark eyes flickered, and though it was difficult to be sure in the dark, enough light slipped in through the partly-shut curtains that Germany could tell he looked pleased that he hadn't immediately taken the first suggestion. "Other option is that y'leave things to me. Understand?"

It was clear what Norway meant by it. Still, Germany considered it carefully, letting the words slide through his mind. Leave it up to Norway. The thought was appealing. Yet the level of trust was uncertain; not for the first time, he remembered that he hardly knew Norway at all. That fact, if anything, made him stiffen even further. Minute though it was, Norway seemed to notice it, as he drew back a little, giving him space - if only a sliver of it. A small gesture, but a considerate one. At that, any uncertainty Germany had was gone. He tightened his hold on Norway, drawing him close to make up for what little space was lost. "I understand," he said. "I'll leave it to you."

For a moment Norway didn't say anything. He twined his arms around Germany's shoulders, linking his fingers at the back of his neck, and looked at him with what seemed to be a quiet patience, as if wanting to give him an opportunity to take it back. "That so," he said softly, when it didn't happen.

Germany nodded. Though he couldn't be sure, Norway didn't look convinced. With the light as dim as it was, it was impossible to read his expression clearly - though even were the room bright as day, it likely wouldn't be any easier. He hesitated, going over the options in his mind one by one, trying to think of a way to convince him. Nothing he could come up with seemed adequate, and he could feel the heat creeping up his neck as he struggled to find the words.

As if noticing his dilemma, Norway raised an eyebrow, then pressed up against him, tilting his head upward a fraction. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to, and Germany dipped his head and brushed a hesitant kiss to against his mouth in acquiescence. In the face of so blatant an offer, even he could understand what Norway had meant by it, and when Norway returned his soft gesture with a full, firm, solid kiss - a proper kiss - Germany knew that he'd given him exactly the response that he had wanted.

* * *

They parted after a moment to linger there in the dark, nearly nose to nose, their lips damp and their breaths quick. As Germany looked down at Norway, he dimly remembered what he had muttered in the living room, and wondered whether it had been true or if it had merely been an excuse to get him into the bedroom. Though the impatience was not immediately obvious, it was noticeable in the way Norway had to tilt his head up to look at him, in the way he carried himself, in the way his clothing had moved as he wrapped his arms around Germany's shoulders. Maybe, Germany thought as he slid his hand down along Norway's back, it had been both truth and an excuse - and if it was truth, he would want to ease it.

He struggled to grasp for the right way to approach the question, and tried unsuccessfully to keep from blushing as Norway tilted his head to kiss along his jaw line. Germany drew in a breath, gathered his nerves, then dipped his fingers to dip them beneath the knit edge of Norway's sweater, sliding the tips against the soft skin he found there. "Should we... that is, I...."

The slow, fluttering gestures stopped as Norway paused. "Want to get on with it, do you," he muttered near Germany's ear.

Germany's hand froze. "No. I mean -" He swallowed harshly as Norway drew away. The questioning look the other nation gave him was enough for him to lose his footing, but in a second he grasped the words again. "Do you want to?"

"If you do."

"I do." Once again Germany found himself wishing that the blinds were drawn up and the moonlight bright enough to see Norway's face clearly. Failing that, it would be enough to step to the wall and turn on the light. Close as they were, with the way Norway's lips tilted, he looked almost as if he was smiling, and Germany wished he could see it. He must have left the room dark on purpose, Germany thought. It was something he wasn't meant to see.

"Fine by me." There was a touch of lightness in Norway's voice as he spoke, trailing his fingertips over Germany's chest, going slowly over the fabric of his dress shirt, lingering at the buttons. "Then we should work on gettin' you out of all this. Wouldn't you say."

The touch made Germany's breath catch. The warmth of Norway's hands though the fabric and the way that Norway looked up at him as he said it, his dark eyes questioning and teasing at the same time, disarmed him in a way that he had not predicted and as he searched for an answer it was all Germany could do to speak with restraint and evenness. When had his clothes become so uncomfortable? "I'm inclined to agree with you," Germany said, the words coming out far more stiffly than he would have preferred. "Should I..." He lifted his hand to touch the knot on his necktie, letting the question hang.

No sooner had he done so than Norway's hand covered his own. He tilted his head up to give another brief, insistent kiss, then muttered, "Let me."

At that, he let his hands drop once more, resting them again at Norway's waist. He had, after all, agreed when Norway had said to leave things to him, and at this point he certainly wasn't going to object. It seemed to be what Norway preferred.

Norway's hands moved slowly and with practiced care as he unknotted the tie. Let his thumb glide along it. Brushed over it. He carefully slid it from around Germany's neck then looked up at him, tilting his head slightly as if wondering if he should question him. Then he slid out of Germany's arms, withdrawing from him to carefully drape it over the back of a chair. "This ain't what you were wearing this afternoon," he said softly. "Why?"

"Why not?" Though there was no accusation in Norway's question, the words came more sharply than Germany meant them to. He regretted the phrasing immediately after he said it and when Norway returned to his arms he drew him close in apology. "What I meant is that I..."

"Changed yer shirt, too. You wanted t'look good for this. Isn't that right." Norway's lips by his ear, his breath fluttering, the smallest hint of a touch and as Germany felt himself flush he couldn't be sure if it was because of that, or if it was because of what he had said. That blatant assertion.

"I wanted to present myself properly," he ground out, unsure if he could even convince himself of it.

"Bullshit. You wanted me to find you attractive." There was a touch of laughter in Norway's voice, a playful lilt that was surprising coming from him. "It worked." He spoke clearly, curbing his dialect, enunciating every word so that there could be no mistake of what he was saying.

Germany found himself at a loss for what to say in the face of that, and neither Norway's words nor his actions made coming up with an answer any easier. His words were brash, accusatory, but he had said himself that the decision had been a good one, even if, Germany thought, the primary cause for it _had_ been merely a desire for suitable presentation, and not for attraction in the least. As Norway's lips brushed along his jaw, fingertips grazing over his chest just lightly enough to be felt through the fabric, the touch had just enough presence to silence any explanation that Germany might have been able to think of.

The laugh Germany had heard in Norway's voice spoke to the fact that he was pleased. It hadn't been meant negatively. It had been - what? Teasing? He recalled Norway in the meeting room, the way he listened to everything with a lack of expression verging on disinterest only to sweep in at an unexpected time with a sharp point - made even more biting by his voice, always sharp, regardless of whether he was agreeing with what was said or not; regardless of whether he was saying something meant to be a compliment or not. Now, in the bedroom, Norway was softer at the edges, his words in contrast to the substance. It was _how_ he said it that was important. That and the way he stayed close to him, the way he slid his hand up to undo the buttons of his shirt so slowly that it appeared he took pleasure in the very act of it, the way he dipped his head and brushed his mouth against his pulse, a touch that made Germany's head spin. All of it was a hint - a suggestion that Norway had what he wanted.

It caused Germany to grow bold enough to take the chance to slide his hands down along Norway's sides, carefully searching for a reaction and wishing - and not for the first time - that he was not wearing that thick sweater. It would be far preferable if he could trail his fingers over the fabric and make him shiver the way that Norway was doing exactly the same to him. Perhaps the caution he took with his hands would have seemed excessive to anyone else, but in this situation caution was warranted. While Norway amused himself with the buttons, Germany slid his hands down along his waist and past the hem of the sweater and straight to his hips and when Norway drew in a breath at the touch Germany's hands stilled.

He waited, not removing his hands, unsure if he should even breathe. Slowly, Norway lifted his head, looked at him for a moment with an expression Germany wouldn't have been able to read even without the darkness of the bedroom obscuring his expression, then kissed him. There was approval in the way his hands splayed out over now-bare skin, warm fingertips touching, seeking, pressing as his tongue swept over Germany's lips, then past them. And when Germany slid his hands lower, he got a tremor for his efforts and a soft sound muffled against his mouth as Norway nestled more firmly against him.

Perhaps Norway wasn't inclined to express his approval with words.

Norway broke the kiss far too soon for Germany's liking. He stayed close, his breathing unsteady, and as he slowly slid his hands downward, undoing another button, Germany noted the warmth on his face, the slight heat on his cheeks. Norway was blushing.

Unsure of how to proceed in light of this new development, Germany parted his lips to question him, thought better of it, then lightly kissed his cheek instead. That proved the right gesture, as Norway returned it, drawing in a deep breath before reaching the last button, slipping it out of its hole in a quick, almost businesslike fashion. "If ya' don't mind," Norway muttered, his lips grazing Germany's ear, "I'd rather not stand here."

"Is it the same problem as before?" Germany ventured, his voice light, trying to mimic the tone Norway had used previously, then straightening as Norway drew away.

"Aye, that it is," Norway said, glancing up at him briefly. There was amusement in his eyes, or so it seemed - so Germany hoped. "And I can't be havin' with it, lookin' up at you all the time."

"Then how would you prefer it?"

"Lookin' down. Now, help me with this, will you."

As Germany shifted to allow Norway to slip the shirt from his shoulders, he considered the response and wondered what he could possibly mean by it. The possibilities flitted through his mind, and the most likely of them made him flush even as the cool air touched him, but he put them all away - for the moment. Surely Norway would clarify it, he thought, glancing over to him as he draped the shirt over the chair.

"Let's just..." Norway muttered, almost to himself, as he drifted back to Germany, stepping quietly as he put his arms around his shoulders, pressing close, but not too tightly. "Let's just go on."

The wool, though soft under his fingertips, was coarse against his bare chest and more than ever he wished Norway wasn't wearing it. Germany's hands dropped to Norway's waist, found the edge of the sweater, and lifted it slightly - a gesture that was rewarded with a brush of lips against his cheek and a soft 'hmm' of approval. "Go on?" He had to be sure.

"Go ahead, 's what I meant."

He didn't need any further instruction than that.

* * *

They moved slowly in the dark, undressing each other with patience. There wasn't any need for rushing. Germany worked cautiously, slipping the sweater over Norway's head for him, and the undershirt after that. Norway, for his part, went about everything in a precise way: he took up Germany's trousers as soon as they'd slipped off, neatly folding them before their rightful owner could move to do so, his expression calm. It wasn't long before they were both bare - then Norway gently nudged him to the bed, drew back the quilts, and pressed him down onto it.

Germany found himself at a loss for what to say, though even if he had known the proper words for the situation, Norway did not give him much chance to say anything. Norway had asked to lead him, and he seemed to know how he wanted things, so Germany was content to allow him to direct the proceedings. While Germany was not a stranger to this situation, there was no set protocol for it, and as Norway straddled him, pressed him down against the pillows and kissed him, he found himself searching through his mental files for any scrap of useful information, and coming up with very little that was of any application under the current circumstances.

It appeared that a more immediate, practical approach was in order. As Norway kissed him, he rested his hands at his sides, then slowly slid them down to his hips. Just as before, Norway made a soft sound against his mouth, a muffled, barely-there hum of pleasure, satisfied enough to slide his hand behind Germany's head, cupping it lightly to kiss him all the more firmly. Even so, there was a slowness to his gestures, a kind of easiness, a leisurely pace to the way he kissed him, as if even though Norway knew what he wanted - and was fully intent on having it - he would like to go about it in a slow, methodical way.

That suited Germany very well. It gave him time enough to take him in, making note of each and every detail: the shudder that went through Norway as he set his hands lower, the slight shifting in his breaths, his sighs, the way he arched as Germany pressed his palm along his lower back. The body under his hands was firm, stronger than expected, fine muscle under his fingertips. As Germany slid his hands along Norway's thighs and felt another tremor he wondered at his own surprise. He should have known better than to expect him to be the same way in private circumstances as he was in public.

Finally, Norway broke away, sitting back firmly on top of him, close enough to press against his crotch, a presence that stirred Germany more than enough even if he wasn't yet grinding down against him. His breathing was unsteady, his touch light as he trailed his fingertips over Germany's chest. His gestures were slow, almost as if he, too, needed to take time to decide what to do next. How to proceed. 

Germany couldn't be sure. In the darkness, Norway's face was not visible enough for him to be sure of his expression. And yet - there might be another option. He brought his hands up again and rested them lightly at Norway's waist. It was a gesture meant only to buy himself a moment of time as he tried to think of the right way to phrase it. "I have a request," he said softly.

Norway tilted his head, stilling the movement of his hands. "Go ahead."

Germany paused. Norway's hands on his chest were a warm, welcome weight, distracting in the way they rested with long, fine fingers sprawled out over him. "I would prefer it if the curtains were open."

For a moment Norway stared at him, and Germany was uncertain if he would refuse or not. There was no tensing of the flesh under his hands, no pause in his breath. Norway's slim fingers trailed again, lightly stroking down his chest, curiously exploring the shape of him as he took a moment to make a decision. Then he nodded, seeming to understand the reason for it, and reached up, steadying himself as he reached to push the curtains open and draw the blinds up.

The light from outside washed over him, and as Germany looked up at Norway the sight took him in and held him. He swept his eyes over him, up along his chest to his collarbones to his throat, trailing along the line of his jaw, finally settling on his finely-featured face, pale in the soft light, his lips slightly-parted as if about to speak, his hair mussed and just barely held back. As Germany watched, Norway slowly lifted his hands and slipped the clip out of his hair, then bent to set it on the beside table. When he drew back again he looked at Germany with a curious, searching expression, tilting his head a bit, his now-loose hair lightly touching his face.

"How's that," he asked, nodding to the window.

Germany took a moment to carefully untie his tongue. "Good. Thank you." He hesitated, then lifted his hand and brushed Norway's hair out of his face, lightly tucking a few strands behind his ear, confirming what he had wondered in the kitchen not long before: it was just as soft as it looked. Any other time he would have thought it a bold gesture, but by the way Norway pressed his face against his hand and gently kissed at his palm, he knew that it has been the correct move. It appeared that Norway liked the intimacy of gentle contact and light touches, and Germany dutifully filed that information away in his internal cabinet for further reference.

"Why'd you ask me to?" Norway's lips brushed against Germany's wrist as he muttered the response, the light contact sending the sensation slipping right through him to curl deep in his lower regions. 

"I wanted to be able to see what I was doing," Germany said sharply, hoping Norway wouldn't push it any further.

His breath caught as Norway raised an eyebrow and bent to kiss at his cheek, steadying himself with a hand on the pillow. "Liar. You wanted t'see _who_ you're doing."

The accusation fluttered over his ear and sent a heat rising flush along his cheeks. His hands went to Norway's waist, gripping him there as if to ground himself, but it didn't keep the protest from rising to his lips. "That is absolutely untrue, I-"

"Shhh." Another flutter of breath as Norway pressed his thumb to his lips, keeping it there to silence him. His other hand slid under his head, long fingers tangling in his hair, the gesture almost affectionate. "Didn't say I minded. Did I."

"I..." There were damp lips grazing his ear, then his neck. He struggled to think. Though Norway had said to leave everything to him, it was almost impossible to determine the appropriate response to anything he did. His words were full of criticism, but said lightly - and by his reactions, the way he kissed at him, sighed and arched as Germany slid his hands to his hips while not daring to touch farther, it was obvious that he wasn't displeased. "No," Germany finally admitted, his voice more unsteady than he would have liked. "You didn't say that. I apologize."

"'S right." A gentle nip to his earlobe, as if rewarding him for giving him the answer he wanted. Perhaps it was. "But come t'think on it, I have a request myself."

"Yes?"

"Cut the crap. We ain't in a boardroom." Norway's lips touched first his cheek, then his mouth, silencing Germany before he could form an argument against him. He held it until he felt he had made his point, then sighed and paused to nose at his cheek. When he spoke again there was a sharpness in his voice, an almost exasperated tone to it that Germany had heard more than once in situations completely different from this one. "You're in my bed without a damn stitch on you and you're about to give me the best fuck I've had in months. Think I'd rather you put the formalities away for a bit, if ya' don't mind."

Norway's words slid through Germany's ear, his quiet voice sinking deep into him, making him tighten his grip on him instinctively. He opened his mouth to apologize but before the correct words could slip into his mind, much less slip out of his lips, Norway rolled his hips and pressed up against him, making a soft sound that, for the life of him, Germany never would have been able to imagine him uttering.

That was, of course, completely leaving aside the matter of certain regions of his geography. As Norway ground against him, Germany found himself firm, tight, stiff in a way entirely different from what Norway intended before, and in a way that, in light of what he had been saying, he was quite unlikely to complain about. Perhaps, Germany thought as Norway caught his lips in a firm kiss, his fingers tightening in his hair, it would do both of them well to leave the formalities behind, or at least to leave off speaking for the moment.

He slid his hands lower, gripped at him and pulled Norway tightly against him, a gesture that made Norway gasp in surprise and press against him eagerly, nipping at his lips with what seemed to be approval. It was simply a matter of determining precisely what he wanted - beyond a simple desire to leave things to him. With every gesture Norway gave him some response, shivering as he ground against him, and when Germany rolled his hips upward, their cocks sliding against each other, Norway made a sound against his mouth, a throaty, muffled moan. It couldn't have been anything else.

* * *

There was no question that they were both affected by the presence of one another. Norway's body was firm under his hands, muscle and bone and lines, edges, hard at the mouth as he kissed him and even harder down below as they pressed together. When their kiss broke he gasped against Germany's lips, then kissed him again as if he didn't dare show just how breathless he was.

The tongue in his mouth and long fingers in his hair made a complete mess of any order that Germany had retained up to that moment. With every touch, every slight movement, Norway responded to him. They might have long since dispensed with words - and with talking - but the situation was rapidly approaching the point where it was not necessary. With every press, every shudder, Norway gave him more wordless indication of what he wanted.

For a moment Germany hesitated, then eased his grip on Norway's hip and slid one hand down along his thigh, the gesture a question, echoed by the kiss, the soft sliding of tongue against tongue. Norway paused, the slowing of his movements a question in itself, the sweep of his tongue over Germany's lips asking what his intent was, but as Germany grazed his thumb against Norway's inner thigh, it seemed he understood.

"Go ahead," Norway whispered against Germany's mouth, his breath hot and his damp lips brushing. He made no move to kiss him again, nor did Germany either. Norway opted to linger close instead, his eyes dark, his face shadowy in their close proximity as the light from outside touched his hair and played over his shoulders.

The instruction was plain, completely unambiguous, and Germany did not delay in following it. He slipped his hand between them and slid his fingers along Norway's cock, daring to touch him for the first time. He was rewarded with a shudder and a gasp, halted as Norway bit at his lip and rocked against his hand. For a moment he explored him with his fingertips, noting every shiver, every change in Norway's breathing, every single note that might indicate approval - or disapproval.

For the moment, if the way Norway rocked against his palm and gripped at his hair were any indicators, he did not have one single hint of criticism. Another shuddering gasp against his mouth as Germany curled his hand around both of their cocks and rolled his hips up against him, a breathless groan of "Oh, _fuck_ " from Norway, who kissed Germany shortly after, a soft whimper as Norway ground against him. Norway's cheeks were warm, flushed, and as Germany kissed him he could not tell if it was from arousal or from embarrassment at the outburst, and he wasn't about to question him about it.

Eventually, Norway broke the kiss, drew away. Hands at his shoulders, at his chest, steadying Norway while he rocked against his palm. Breathless. Germany swept his gaze up to him and looked at him and found himself unable to look away. The moonlight washed over Norway's face and he was clear in that light, his hair falling in his face, his eyes heavily-lidded, his cheeks flushed with arousal. Cautiously, Germany slowly gave Norway's cock a stroke. Watched his breath catch, his lips part, watched him shiver.

A breath. A pause. Norway dipped his head as if thinking about ducking to kiss him again, then decided against it. Steadied, taking a moment to rub against his cock and press into his hand again. "Reckon I won't last that long if we keep this up," he muttered, a light teasing hint in his voice.

"Then what do you propose?" Germany asked, recovering from his surprise at Norway's forwardness enough to trail his fingertips along Norway's thighs.

A smile seemed to tug at the corner of Norway's lips. It must have been a trick of the light. It wasn't likely to be anything else. "Remember what I said before."

"About formalities?"

"No." If anything, that smile broadened, and Germany could no longer tell himself that it was only the way the light and shadow cast itself over Norway's face. "Right before that. The other bit."

It was clear what Norway meant by it. If the tone of his voice and the way his lips tilted into that hint of a smile hadn't been enough, his actions would have made everything clear. He slid his hands down, down along Germany's chest, down over his stomach, slow enough to linger, until he finally took hold of Germany's cock with his slim, strong fingers and stroked. Locked eyes with him as he did it, as if wanting to prove a point by it, and Germany found that gaze sliding straight through him and through his veins and down between his legs. If he hadn't been stiff already, Norway would have seen to it. 

He parted his lips, at a loss of what he should say, if anything. Finally, he settled for simply resting back against the pillows and letting Norway do as he pleased. That was, after all, what he had agreed to do, and Norway seemed set on doing precisely that. He watched, flushed with embarrassment at his own arousal as Norway set to his work.

Norway went about it slowly, his eyes sliding over him just as his hands slid over him, his expression soft and almost curious as he stroked him. Germany's breath caught. His hands were surprisingly strong, the touch firm and unwavering, even while exploring - trailing along the shaft, thumbing at the head, a gesture that made Germany bite down on his lip to keep from saying anything untoward.

It seemed Norway caught sight of that, because the edge of his lips twitched, his eyes flickering for a moment before he bent down, muttering by Germany's ear, his breath fluttering over it, warm and present and welcome.

"How about it, then," Norway asked. "What I said before." He bit at Germany's earlobe and gave his cock a squeeze, making him gasp and jerk up against his hand.

"Yes-!" The reply slid past his lips with more enthusiasm than necessary, a desperate hiss that made Germany blush with embarrassment and want to apologize. At that, Norway only made a soft huff - _laughter_ \- and kissed his cheek and slid his long fingers along the shaft again, as if trying to draw out another sound again. Germany bit his tongue and held himself, not wanting to give him that satisfaction yet, not when it seemed that Norway was only teasing him.

"All right," Norway whispered as he pressed a kiss to Germany's throat. "Fine. That's fine by me."

* * *

Prior to stepping into that room, Germany had been completely unaware as to what to expect, and even then, as Norway moved over him, bending to pull the top drawer of the nighttable open to retrieve certain necessities, Germany still found himself unsure what to expect. And when Norway asked him if he would lend him a hand, murmuring lowly by his ear as he took his hand and pressed the tube into it, Germany found himself unable to respond except with a nod.

Whatever Germany had expected, it had not been that he would have Norway on top of him, spread over him, moaning as Germany slid slick fingers inside of him and gasping out something about how big his hands were. Though Germany only half-heard it, it made him blush all the same, and wonder if the flush on Norway's cheeks was from embarrassment or arousal. Likely the second, to judge by the oath Norway muttered as Germany slid his fingers even deeper into him. But neither of them could stand much more of it. Even as he eased Norway up and appreciated every reaction, every shiver and hint of sound, Germany found his patience wearing. Finally, Norway stopped and looked at him and it became clear that, though he was enjoying himself well enough, his own patience could only last so long.

Norway repeated what he had said before, a low and smooth "How about it?" whispered as he looked down at Germany for confirmation. It was an out: an option to turn back, showing him where the door was in case he wanted it, just as he had in the kitchen. While he appreciated the courtesy, Germany thought dimly as he closed his fingers around his cock and slicked it up, it was somewhat late for it, and it was one offer he did not intend to accept.

"I..." He hesitated, searching for the right words. "I would like that, if it is still agreeable to you."

For a second Norway stared at him. Then he smiled - smiled outright - and bent to kiss him.

" _Formalities_. B'lay that. All of it," he muttered breathlessly as he took hold of Germany's cock and guided it inside of him.

 

They moved, and what formalities had remained were stripped as bare as the two of them. Norway's eyes fluttered shut as he rocked down onto Germany's cock and made a soft, high sound as he let it fill him. Sucking in a breath, Germany rolled his hips up against him, feeling himself flush as Norway pressed down obligingly and took him in completely. Norway was - Germany pushed the thought away, but it surfaced again as Norway sighed and moved over him - Norway was tight, and his first instinct was to move carefully so as not to harm him.

He steadied himself and thrust cautiously up into him and was met with Norway moving down against him, opening his eyes to watch him, his lips parting to speak, but unable to gasp it out until Germany gently thrust up into him again. "Harder. Do it." Norway's voice was breathless and it was impossible not to follow through with the direction when offered in such a manner.

"Is this-" Germany started, then tripped over his words as Norway rocked firmly down onto him and shivered.

"Is it _what_?" Norway planted his hands on the mattress, fingers digging into the sheets as he stilled and bent to look at him. The way he looked at him, with his cheeks flushed and his eyes half-lidded, aroused and at the same time curious, made Germany's tongue thick in his mouth. It took a moment for the words to reach him.

"I was asking," he said slowly, "If that is how you prefer it." He slowly slid his palms along Norway's thighs, trailing his fingers upward.

Norway shivered, pliant to the gesture, taking it as an opportunity to spread his thighs even wider. "Wouldn't say it if I didn't," he muttered from his place above Germany, his hair falling in his face, cupping his cheek, driving Germany to reach up to touch it and tuck it behind his ear again, lingering just a second longer than necessary, trailing his fingers down along his face.

"Yes, I understand, but-"

"Don't," Norway said, pressing a hasty kiss to his wrist. "Stop it with this 'but' business. Told you, that's what I want." He rocked down hard as if to illustrate his point, sudden enough to make Germany gasp. "'S that clear?" He practically ground the last words out.

It was enough. Germany could take a hint. Norway's instructions couldn't be any clearer, certainly not with the way Norway pressed down onto him again without even waiting for a response, letting out a quiet moan as he did it, then did it again. Norway watched Germany while he did it, moving above him, his eyes dark and determined and uncompromising.

The terms were such that Germany was perfectly willing to accept them - yet had Norway wanted to debate them further, Germany would not have objected to that either. Norway's voice was low and rich even when insistent and his words slipped through his ears straight into him. However - the other sounds he made were far better. Germany gripped at Norway's hips and rolled upward, driven by the sound of Norway's breathless moaning.

They continued in that way. Germany took Norway's terms and adhered to them and did not utter another single word of questioning, following Norway's lead instead, just as he had promised earlier. Norway, for his part, was quick to show his appreciation - and what he wanted as well. He moved, insistent, pressing into every touch, steadily delivering encouragement and instruction. Yes. Harder. More. Soft words breathed out as Norway moved above him, interspersed with curses and oaths and the occasional word too quiet and breathless to make out. The words gave way to other sounds as Germany followed his instructions, as he gripped at Norway's ass and steadily thrust up into him. The noises Norway made in response to that were a welcome reward for doing as instructed and Germany could not help but echo his soft groans as they moved together.

Not for the first time, Germany found himself grateful that he had asked him to draw open the blinds. The light from outside washed in, poured over the two of them, making Norway visible in the dark. It brushed over his skin and cupped his face, highlighting his fine features, softened in that moment, all the edges gone. Germany looked up as Norway rode his cock and watched him, taking in every flicker of expression in that face, the fluttering of his eyelids, the parting of his lips as he gasped, the flush colouring his cheeks, the way his hair clung to his forehead, dampened with sweat. One of Norway's hands rested on Germany's stomach, the better to steady himself as he moved, the better to give contact, fingertips splayed, touching. The better to provide a view as Norway rode him, touching himself, his hand between his legs gripping, stroking, growing more unsteady by the minute, faltering as Germany rocked up hard into him again, making him moan, his eyes falling shut for just a moment, his bruised lips parted.

Norway was nothing like what Germany had imagined and as he gasped, rocking up into him again, Germany realized that he had, in truth, had an idea as to what Norway would be like in such a situation. Silent and cold, as he always was. Those impressions had been proved absolutely incorrect. Norway had stripped himself of the ice of the conference room and allowed Germany to carefully draw back his layers and even if he guarded a part of himself Norway's frank words echoed in Germany's head. 'It's about me being attracted to you'. The press of his narrow fingertips was gentle and inviting and in that moment Norway was far from silent.

It might have been the sounds Norway made, the way he pressed to him, the way the moonlight caught his face, any number of things might have been what caused Germany to slide his hands lower, grip him firmly, thrust up into him hard enough to make Norway curse loudly, looking down at Germany with wide eyes. Then he moved himself, rolling down hard, holding Germany's gaze firmly as if taking the gesture as a challenge, a movement that made Germany groan. Under that, Norway rocking down hard onto his cock, flushed with arousal and his eyes unwavering, Germany couldn't last, and he came with a groan, thrusting up into him again, dimly noting the sound Norway made as Germany gripped at his hips again, the way his eyes fell shut.

He had barely finished before he cautiously slid his hand between Norway's legs. Though he might have been dazed and heady with orgasm, throbbing with it, he had no intention of making Norway tend to himself. 

To Germany's relief, Norway was content to allow him. Without a word, he steadied himself with both hands on the mattress, giving Germany leave to coil his fingers around his cock and stroke. Norway kept time with the movements, thrusting with them, rolling, always in motion, his eyes lightly-shut, his lips parted to let slip his gasps, softer, quieter, until finally he released, shuddering, biting at his lip to silence himself.

* * *

Neither of them said anything after they finished. Germany parted his lips to speak, and Norway, upon noticing it, dipped his head to catch his mouth in a kiss and quiet him before he could say a single word. It was a clear instruction, and Norway was adamant that it be followed.

When he had been satisfied that he had made his point, Norway slid off of Germany to drape by his side and held off any comments with a gentle squeeze to the hand, as if to tell him that he didn't want to be questioned on it. Unexpected though it was, Germany remained quiet. He had thought Norway the sort to rise directly from bed, hardly likely to linger after that kind of thing, but as Norway curled up at his side, still warm from their activities, Germany decided that the alternative was also acceptable for the moment.

Neither of them spoke. There was nothing but the sound of their breathing, slow and deep. Outside could be heard the rush of the city; cars on the street and people talking loudly as they walked by. In the apartment above them another tenant could be heard walking about, their footsteps making the floor creak. Germany wondered if he should say something.

"Ya' walked here, didn't you," Norway murmured beside him, his lips brushing against Germany's shoulder.

"Yes," Germany admitted, remembering the anticipation and the cold breeze kissing under his overcoat as he walked to the apartment building in the dark, following the instructions that Norway had written for him on the napkin. "It did not take long."

Norway made a noncommittal noise and fell silent again, leaving Germany to wonder at the question. He did not know whether Norway had meant nothing by it, or whether he meant to hint that, now that they were through with everything, he should leave. Though Norway seemed completely satisfied with the results of their cautious venture, Germany could claim no certainty to that - nor as to whether Norway preferred him to stay, either.

Just as he was readying to rise and excuse himself, Norway moved again, sliding his hand to rest on Germany's chest, the touch gentle but solid. "Well," Norway said quietly. "Far's I can see it, we can do two things, here."

"I am not sure what you mean," Germany said as he carefully rested his hand atop Norway's. He instantly regretted the gesture. Even in light of what they had just done, it was too close, too intimate.

If Norway noticed Germany's discomfort, he gave no sign of it. Instead, he linked their fingers to lightly hold his hand. "'S right simple. We can rest a bit, 'n then I'll drive you back to your hotel. Or y'can stay the night here, 'n in the morning I'll take you out fer breakfast." A pause, then he added, "We can talk business then, if you'd like."

Though he did not say it, it was clear which option Norway favoured. Germany put aside the thought of leaving and considered it. Once again, it was an invitation, and he could not make heads or tails of it. It was almost enough to make him wonder if Norway was deliberately trying to surprise him as many times that night as he possibly could.

While it might have been more prudent to leave, there was nothing about Norway's offer that was not appealing, and as Germany stared up at the ceiling and thought about it, he felt Norway's thumb brush lightly over his palm. He wants you to stay, Germany told himself, and you do, too. There was no reason whatsoever to deny him.

Furthermore, the prospect of talking business over breakfast in the morning was more than welcome. It was an opportunity he normally would not let slip away. And yet -

You don't have any reason to refuse him, Germany reminded himself.

"If it is fine with you, I would like to spend the night," he said. 

Norway's hand tightened around his own, and he did not need to say anything for Germany to know that he had given him the answer that he had wanted. "That's fine by me," Norway muttered. "Wouldn't have offered if it warn't, would I."

"I - suppose not." Germany could feel heat creeping up over his neck as Norway edged closer to him.

Neither of them said anything further. The matter, as it were, was settled.

 

When he woke Germany stared upward in the dark. He did not need to make any effort in order to remember whose bed he had slept in, nor did he need to turn over onto his side in order to know who was beside him; he recalled the events of the previous night with perfect clarity: the conversations they had shared, the relations they had engaged in, the invitation to stay the night and his own insistence about changing the sheets, which Norway had let him do upon his request, apparently quite content to humour him. Norway slept next to him, his breath slow and even and his hair still slightly damp from showering before they went to sleep.

Germany considered the previous night and their decisions about how the day would proceed. Agreeing to breakfast before the meeting they would both have to attend had not been a difficult decision, but he was unsure whether Norway would be so amiable to it once he woke. Neither did he know what time it was, as it was impossible to judge by the daylight - or lack of it. Though it was unlikely he had overslept, especially in a strange bed, it would do to be certain.

He moved carefully as he tried to roll over and take a look at the bedside clock, but for all his caution, he did not succeed in not waking Norway. The figure beside him turned over a bit, opened his eyes, and gave Germany an unnerving stare before muttering a barely-audible "G'mornin'."

Though the look Norway gave him was cold, the greeting, if mumbled, was warm enough to convince Germany that his concern had been for nothing. "Good morning," he said quietly. "What time is it?"

Norway turned over to get a look at the clock, humming softly as he realized _exactly_ what time it was. "Half past five," he said, turning back to Germany, nestling close to him and seeming to do so almost without intending to, or at least it seemed that way. "Got a while yet afore we need to be anywhere."

Germany hesitated only for a moment before sliding his arm around Norway's waist, which proved to be the correct action, as Norway pressed even closer to him, sighing sleepily. "Yes, but perhaps we should-"

"Lemme' guess," Norway muttered, his breath brushing over Germany's bare skin. "You're thinkin' we ought to get up 'n go about our business right this minute."

"Well - yes, I am."

"I see." There was a soft sound from Norway, as if he was thoroughly considering the proposal. "Wouldn't mind that, most days."

"Most days?" Germany asked.

"'S right. Mornin's the time for gettin' things done. But I see no call for rushin' today. Got summat I'd rather."

Before Germany could question on it, Norway rested back onto the mattress and drew Germany on top of him. At first it was not clear what he intended by it, but as Norway tilted his head up to kiss him, tangling his fingers in his hair, Germany realized exactly what he had meant by 'something else'.

Perhaps getting out of bed could wait.

 

The sounds of the restaurant surrounded them: the rise and fall of voices, the chime of the bell above the door as people entered, the click of cutlery. True to his promise, Norway had no objection to discussing business in the morning. As they breakfasted, they spread papers out on the table, comparing notes and impressions and ideas and predictions of economic progress - or lack of it - for the next few years, both for themselves and their neighbouring nations. 

It seemed to Germany that there was a light note to Norway's voice as he spoke and a brightness to his expression that usually was not there. He wondered if it was due to their activities early that morning, before they had bothered to rise from bed, before Norway had made coffee for the two of them, before they had left from the apartment to return to the hotel so Germany could dress suitably for the day. He thought of Norway beneath him, every gesture utterly _insistent_ , leading him more than allowing himself to be led, and how afterward, when they had finally rested together, Norway had blinked up at him, brushed Germany's hair out of his face, and muttered that he looked good with his hair down, and that he wouldn't mind seeing him that way more often, "If y'understand what'm gettin' at, here."

Germany thought about it, but knew better than to ask whether that was the source of Norway's good mood. It wouldn't do to pose such a question in public. He took another sip of black coffee, put the idea out of his mind, and concentrated instead on what Norway was telling him.

"Should turn out aright, but y'never can be sure, can you," Norway said, tapping a page to emphasize his point, which Germany had barely heard, before sliding it over to him. "'N I appreciate you keepin' my affairs in mind with this whole business."

As far as Germany could tell, that meant 'You know that I want no part in this economic union, but I can not deny its proximity to me' or something of the like. "It isn't a problem," he said, adjusting his reading glasses before taking up the page to skim it. 

Norway nodded and took up his coffee. "All the same," he said. "Better you than me." Tilting his head, he added, "We can cover more've this next time we get together. In Hamburg, remember."

Hamburg. Their next meeting. But the thought that insinuated itself into Germany's mind had little to do with trade. He recalled what Norway had said the previous night; that they could see each other personally after their next meeting. He could nearly feel Norway pressing his fingers to his lips as he reminded him that they would soon see one another again.

Germany looked up. Norway met his eyes and looked back, his face as straight as ever. It could be that he hadn't intended at all to remind him of the more private aspects of their future meeting. In that case, Germany decided, it would be necessary to be tactful. "Yes, I think it will be productive for expanding the scope of our international relations," he said.

"'Course it will. I'll be lookin' forward to it."

As Norway spoke, Germany felt Norway's foot brush against his own. It lingered there, leaving no question that the gesture had been intentional, and even if Norway's expression did not change, staying as flat as if he was talking of nothing but trade and economic policy, it was undeniable that he would actually be looking forward to something far more private.

Germany quickly set down the paper and searched for something to say. It was impossible to ignore the presence of Norway's foot, but he could not manage to persuade himself to ask him to remove it, even with the sensation of heat slowly creeping up his neck. Instead, he tried to collect his senses enough to properly respond.

Much to his relief, Norway decided at that moment to withdraw, taking up his coffee without any acknowledgment of the unexpected invasion of Germany's personal space. 

The words that Germany had been searching for tumbled out. "I will look forward to having you." As Norway arched an eyebrow, Germany blushed and hastily added, "To having you as a guest in my city, of course."

At that, the corners of Norway's eyes crinkled. "Plan on showin' me some hospitality, is that it."

It did not matter that the words stuck to Germany's tongue again, enough that he could barely manage a 'Yes' in response. The warmth in the expression had been fleeting, disappearing again as Norway set his coffee cup aside, leaving nothing but pleasing lines. Regardless, it had been there.

"Of course I will."

It would only be proper to return the favour.


End file.
